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Enjoy this practice as a stand-alone experience or as the first of an eight-day series celebrating National Poetry Month and inspired by Br. David's appreciation of and experience with haiku.
A Haiku doesn’t talk about an experience; a Haiku triggers an experience — your own. ~ Br. David Steindl-Rast
Welcome.
We begin this practice with an invitation to give yourself over to reading haiku — discover what you are drawn to, and notice the experience that is triggered in you.
Calligraphy by Br. David Steindl-Rast
Today we invite you to read haiku. Perhaps you have some books of haiku on hand. If not, here is a one-page assortment of Haiku to keep things simple.
Tom Clausen encourages us to:
Read to find what moves you, what you love, what you like and what you enjoy and brings meaning to you. With whatever writing brings solace and inspiration to you, let it sink in and become part of you so that you reflect and recognize what it is that touched you… in time, the more you are in this meditative and reflective space the more likely your own writing will bring out what is meaningful to you.
Once you have had an opportunity to be with some haiku, select one from among those you have read, write it down with the author’s name, and complete the following writing prompts relative to that haiku. Feel free to write your responses in a notebook and/or in the reflection area below.
1. I am drawn to this haiku because…
2. In this haiku I notice…
3. Reading this haiku I experience…
If you would like to explore this topic further and discover more about what moves you, you might want to repeat this three-part reflection exercise with a few more haiku.
Enjoy the full eight-day Exploring Haiku practice.
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alone in the waiting room checking the plant for reality – Tom Clausen
Although I am love all the offered haikus on the page, I really enjoyed this one by Mr. Clausen for several reasons. First because it made me laugh in recognition. I have done this exact same thing while in waiting rooms. Second, it made me feel joy and a connectedness to the author and a singular moment when we shared an activity. Third it brought forth the surreptitious feelings of not being caught unable to recognize whether a plant is real or not. And of course finally laughing at myself over the silliness of it all.
Thank you Mr. Clausen!
I must confess, I once removed a dead stalk from my doctor’s waiting room plant. One of those tall evergreen tropical plants.
Seen in plain daylight the firefly’s nothing but an insect —Basho
I am drawn to this haiku because I am waiting for warm, sunny spring days. I am intrigued by the wonderful beauty of ordinary things.
In this haiku I notice that daylight seems to diminish the magical quality of the firefly. But it is not the firefly that changes!
Reading this haiku I experience the contradiction of the ordinary: looking at the ordinary in one way it is possible to miss how extraordinary it might be. I know how beautiful fireflies are at night. What other wonders do I miss when I don’t look deeper or differently or in new ways?
I am drawn to the temple bell stops . . . The image created in my mind was the wind chimes that hang at the edge of my porch and the frogs calling for rain in the metal tubes above rain lillies. Such a peaceful delight this morning spent listening. But no rain.
The lake is lost In the rain which is lost In the lake. Brother David Steindl-Rast
I am drawn to this haiku because of its circularity and simplicity. In this haiku I notice interconnection and the interplay in each being lost in the other. Reading this haiku I experience both a soothing balance and my attention piqued in the invitation to puzzle: How are these two both lost in one another? I enjoy being drawn in, curious, while also feeling calmed by the peaceful depiction – a lovely juxtaposition!
crescent moon barely audible buoy bell — Holly Wren Spaulding
I am drawn to this haiku because it is so short, so few words, so crisp and to the point. It transports me instantly:
In this haiku I notice that there are only two things mentioned: the moon and the sound of a bell. But when those things are put together they illicit in my memory sitting on a dock, sea wind, salt water spray, fog, night, a moon and a barely audible buoy bell.
Reading this haiku I experience an extreme memory flash of calm, serene, relaxed sitting in the night on a dock. There is no mention of the ocean, water or any of this but it is assumed, inferred by the presence of the buoy that there is water of some sort. For me the memory is sea water.
A Haiku doesn’t talk about an experience; a Haiku triggers an experience — your own.
~ Br. David Steindl-Rast
The above triggers my experience about haiku :
Deepens experience Sweet recall of soul’s stirring Gratitude and awe
The moon in the pines Now I hang it up, now I take it off And still I keep gazing.
1. I am drawn to this haiku because… of the experience and feel of the play in nature; a meditative mood. “The moon in the pines” evokes a moment of noticing the play of light in the dark, and of coming to a pause to notice the moon and its place while gazing into a forest. A meditative and mindful moment.
2. In this haiku I notice… a rhythm of life, resting and engagement. It reminds me very much of meditative insight.
3. Reading this haiku I experience… calm and clarity and reflection on a quiet evening in a forest as the moon rises.
I write haiku; it comes to me somewhat spontaneously, often prompted by a moment of observation, a situation I need to process or a meditative experience. It can be like a snapshot of a moment I can’t convey in a visual medium.
I wrote this recently, watching the moon set over the Olympic Mountains one morning:
A model for me The moon is unwavering Clear, brilliant, peaceful
Karen Johnstone 3/20/19
The lake is lost in the rain which is lost in the lake. Brother Steindl-Rast
I am drawn to this haiku because it connects me to water, rain, lake. In this haiku, I notice the circularity of water dropping as rain into the lake where it is lost. I experience the sense of loss of each singular raindrop which is found in the mass of lake molecules of water. They are one.
The cry of the cicada Gives us no sign That presently it will die. Basho
Drawn to this Haiku because the music of the cicada has become so alive back again – due to this Haiku – while I spent 2,5 years in Africa/Kenya in the early seventies. The music of the cicades in particular in the evening/night times has become the my music of remembering back home. In this Haiku I notice the meaning of HOME as a yearning within mySELF. Reading this Haiku I experience the my bodymind, which stored this music over 40 years and helps me to remember it. Its a rememberance of meaning. that even the signs/sound I am creating nowadays, doesn’t mean, to die; neither mySelf nor others. Because the sound is so unique, expresses the purpose of itself…. will not die. It’s a reminder of my call.
Naturally How heart-appealing on the mountain pass, Are wild violets hidden in the grass! –Basho
This verse interpretation is from “A Net of Fireflies,” by Harold Stewart, published in 1960. He translated haiku as couplets, thinking this form most aptly catches the lyrical sound and spirit of the original Japanese. This particular verse appeals to me since a day or two ago, I was happily surprised by masses of tiny violets hiding in my lawn. Reading from “A Net of Fireflies,” brings wonderful memories of the dear friend who gave the book to me nearly 60 years ago.
Daily I look out For bulbs burst into yellow. A new one brings joy.
In December we dug hard to plant daffodils and now we see them flowering new life!
An ancient pond! With a sound from the water Of the frog as it plunges in.
Ripples flow out in the silence of the water as my heart plunges deep.
I was touched by the scarcity of Basho’s words to evoke an image of sitting beside an ancient pond – the frog already gone – and the heart remaining, quiet and attentive.
On a branch floating downriver a cricket, singing.
Kobayashi Issa, translated by Jane Hirshfield
I am drawn to this haiku because it is by a Japanese master, about nature; moving water, a cricket, singing, and is a little unexpected in that you think something floating downstream might be doomed, but the cricket sings.
In this haiku I notice that I am attracted to it and delighted by it because it reminds me of some of my life challenges for which the best response would be singing rather than stressing out and imagining the worst.
Reading this haiku I experience delight.
I loved all of the haiku. What I really like about haiku are the succinct images – there is no fooling around.
I reflected on Zee Zahara’s “here I am – …” because I really like the image of being between ocean and moon, and I frequently feel somewhere between lost and found. I also liked Tom Clausen’s “on the way home/ more geese/ on the way home” because of the repetition that is more than repetition. Both bring a sense of peace after a hectic day.
In all of them, I like the freedom from the strict form of 5-7-5, and the connection with the natural world.
Sidewalk sale wind twists a lifetime guarantee tag
I am drawn to Mr. Clausen’s haiku because it speaks to me of life’s impermanence. I notice that it does so using a rather simple life example, the tag. I experience both the fragility of life and the offering that there may be a guarantee, but who gets the guarantee and what might it be? Much here in eight words.
Often when I read haiku, I’m both moved and jealous. I begin to feel that my life and experience aren’t as rich and profound. Then when I write them I see that my life is just as rich and profound when I take the time to appreciate it.
I like how they pull me into the moment and perspective that is being shared. It’s being invited to share some quality time with the writer, even over a span of time and distance.
Cardinal thank you for reminding me to be surprised Zee Zahawa
I am drawn to this haiku because I like the idea of being reminded to be surprised…the beauty of nature which we often take for granted should always evoke that element of surprise in our day. In this haiku, I notice the extraordinary in the ordinary. Reading this haiku, I experience a carbonation in my soul and being
alone in the waiting room checking the plant for reality — Tom Clausen I am drawn to this because I WANT reality, and I notice I need intention and to be pushed a bit out of my unrealness – all the habitual thoughts that are no good for nothing The plant is real – truly
“here i am — somewhere between ocean and moon somewhere between lost and found cardinal ” In this Haiku I notice how my safety grows when borders are mentioned – and I experience an expansion and STILL safety
Somewhere between lost and found… but here I am. It’s where I am today, rather lost, but knowing now that I am here somewhere. Thanks
Daily moments come Sending vibes of hopefulness Like this one right now!
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